


Unwanted

by Kit_SummerIsle



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Cannibalism, Sparklings, Violence, dumpster sparklings, sparkling death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The idea came from a tumblr discussion about Functionalists dumping unwanted/unclaimed sparklings into dumpsters. It turned out to be a bit dark, but then we know Drift's past is always dark...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [agatharights](http://agatharights.tumblr.com/) for the idea!
> 
> I also started writing Consort and Who Won? again, so those will be updated as well - as soon as I'm ready with the chapters. Hopefully they'll behave now. :-)

_Note: mind the warnings please! The fic contains violence against sparklings and (sort of) cannibalism - not detailed, but it's there._

There was a bright, yellow-white light in the wide open place and many frames just like himself milling around on the floor in a noisy, clumsy tangle. The sparkling came from the light earlier than most and he has already figured out how to move his limbs and so he was standing upright even walked with stumbling steps among the crawling and flailing frames who still had to find out the advantages of being coordinated. For one thing he saw more, though he had no words for most of those things around, or even to himself yet. But he saw the large shapes at the outside of the circle, the ones that were similar to them but moved more surely, confidently and sometimes one of them picked up a wailing sparkling from the crowd, inspected it… and took it away.

The sparkling instinctly knew that it was a Good Thing to be picked up and cradled into stronger arms, nestle into a supporting EM field, feel a stronger spark’s thudding from up close… it was _safety/food/home_ and similar concepts he still had no words for, just felt in his little spark. So he tried to walk and sometimes crawl or struggle when an uncoordinatedly flailing sparkling on the floor tripped him, to the outside of the crowd where the large mechs were closer so they could pick him out. But more and more of the young ones came in waves from the glaring brightness that his optics could not discern and the gaggle of frames swept him back again and again. The new ones’ platings were still soft and the flailing limbs weak, but their mass felt like suffocating waves of a flood for the determinately fighting sparkling who kept moving forward. 

His own plating has already hardened but he had no real strength yet in the newly minted cables and hydraulics – only the hints of future speed, strength and a durable armour that started to show the faintest patches of white at some places. White was good, he decided, it was the colour of the origin from which they all came. But he was more determined and purposeful than most and waded through the throng of seething frames, even though every new wave pushed him back into the middle, far enough from the large frames that kept picking up sparklings from the edges of the group. The juvenile vocalizer squeaked angrily at them, but its tiny voice was lost in the incoherent wailing of the group. 

All too soon his limbs started to tire and the effort to waddle through the crowd took more and more effort. The sparkling slowed in his effort, trembling limbs unable to push aside the uncoordinatedly stumbling others from his way, stopping finally as the edge of the circle appeared to be as far again as it was at first, despite of his efforts. The large frames were fewer too, only one or two remained around and the sparkling felt fear for the first time. Picking up on even weaker sparklings’ tiny fields too, fuelled by their incoherent fear and yearning as well he once again tried to break through to the large ones.

But he was too late. The large frames disappeared and the sparkling felt a frightening sense of abandonment and aloneness, even though there were plenty of his fellow sparklings around. The others appeared to pick up the feeling too and the chirping-clicking sounds became more and more desperate wailings that rose in the large space, filled the air and reverberated from unseen walls. But it did not find sympathetic sparks, no adult voices crooned in answer to the wordless juvenile pleas. The bright light that felt _home/source/origin_ dimmed and closed up and the place was draped in cold darkness. The wailing grew and intensified… until new large ones appeared all around, all dark instead of brightly coloured like the ones before. The sparkling’s hope rose again.

But the new frames did not pick sparklings from the gaggle, did not cradle them in strong arms. They grabbed them by the dozens, rough servos uncaring about soft platings and delicate systems, bent limbs and choking little vocalizers… they dumped the sparklings into large crates, filling the metal containers up with flailing sparklings like they were so much spare parts… only spare parts were treated like they had value, while the too many sparklings Vector Sigma regularly churned out had none. They pushed the full dumpsters out from the large space, into a much smaller, smellier place with cold, faint lightning and cold, hazy air… the largely white sparkling got caught nearly in the middle of the container, barely seeing the light through the gaggle of scrambling, clawing, struggling frames that were more fortunate and landed over him, cutting him away from the _light/freedom/life_.

He couldn’t get out, weak, trembling limbs that craved for their first taste of energon but never getting any were too weak to push the others aside and climb to the top. He flailed but he became weaker by the breem, like so many others around, even weaker than him, some with still soft plating that got dented and bent as the weight of others pressed down on them inexorably and they went silent and unmoving, sinking to the bottom and the patches of chromites just starting to appear on them darkened to grey. The sparkling knew instinctly that it would be his fate too if he did not get free from the bin, but he was too weak to fight. Until… another little sparkling convulsed over him as its tiny frame got torn by the shifting weight of others and the white sparkling felt warm, pink droplets dripping down on him. Instinct made him lick up the droplets - and his systems recognized it as fuel. 

Seeking out the pink liquid now as he felt strength returning to his limbs, the white sparkling struggled up again with renewed determination. He pushed aside the gray frames that did not move, he struggled against the uncoordinatedly flailing ones that hit him on his slow ascent and he fought with the few ones like him who knew where they were going – to the top, to light, air and energon… and maybe a warm field of a large mech who would be their caretaker. Less and less little frames moved as time passed as the determined sparkling slowly got free of his batch-mates’ graying frames and finally grabbed the edge of solid metal, the wall of the dumpster bin, pulling himself up … and popped up a tiny, white helm over the edge to get his first sight of the world while long, pointed audials twitched with curiosity that overwrote even his fearful determination.

Words started to form in his processor as it matured quickly – he survived the first joor, got energon into tiny systems and so his development jumped to the next step. Tiny servos held on to the edge of the dumpster and wide, red optics stared at the street and its few features. His processor catalogued what he saw – narrow street, rundown buildings, closed doors, heaps of rubbish, dirt everywhere, and a few adult mechs scurrying farther away – and what it recognized about himself. He was… he was _Drift_ , the sparkling realized. He was to be a worker, a laborer with a simple car alt. But where…? He should have been picked up by a mech looking for workers for his factory or a mech wanting a sparkling who would then help him find a place to work.

But there were no such mechs around. The Functionalists who pushed the dumpsters out were gone and the surviving sparklings in them slowly gained their bearings and dropped out from the metal crates, milling on the street now. All who survived got some energon from the dying ones but they all instinctly knew that it would not be enough for long. Drift saw a tiny bulldozer instinctly pushing rubbish around while a little crane chittered and chirped at it, its hook swinging as it vocalized. A pair of would-be racers, impossibly thin and lean made for the end of the street, disappearing from his sight fast. But most of the sparklings didn’t have a goal or plan what to do – just like him.

One of the big mechs who walked on the street came closer and the sparklings all pricked up, hoping to be chosen and taken away. The mech bent down to watch them and Drift somehow had a Bad Feeling. Suddenly he didn’t want to go closer. He stared frozen as a large pede stepped onto a tiny, barely moving data-slug and the small frame silenced with a sickening crunch. Another, a little car was kicked away and the sparkling crashed into the edge of the dumpster, screamed and also got silent. The sparklings froze and some, like Drift started to edge away to hide in the dumpsters’ shadow. The large mech picked up a couple of the better-looking ones, but his grip on the tiny frames was not the same kind, gentle hold Drift saw from the mechs before. He collected a dozen sparklings who soon started to wail at his cruel grip and he shook them roughly to silence before leaving. 

Drift was glad to see him gone. Still, he stayed in the shadow of the dumpster and watched as other big ones came and looked over the sparklings, some picking out a few, some just pushing them around, chasing them and laughing. Neither of them had the same, warm feel as the mechs back in the bright place and some of them were outright inimical to the confused sparklings who grew less and less in number now. Drift saw barely a dozen of them similarly hiding than him – but they all knew that sooner or later they will have to come out. He glanced at the nearest sparkling, a lanky tool-like thing with patchy black plating and he looked back scowling.

Another pair decided to dart out of the safe shadows and slink away by the wall. Drift watched them, chewing his lips. Should he have gone with them…? Could they get out of the street and maybe find better caretakers elsewhere? He didn’t know what elsewhere contained, but the mechs had to come from somewhere and more should be there, who didn’t come to the narrow street. Was white a bad choice for colour? He stood out too much and now it was not a good idea.

Drift drew deeper into the shadow when another pede came closer, stopping right in front of his hiding place. It wasn’t as big as some of the others, but for the sparkling he was still huge, especially from up close. The mech bent down and his servo leaned in and started to search in the narrow crevice between two dumpsters. It came closer and closer to Drift and the white sparkling didn’t want the claw-tipped digits to grab him. He drew back until his back plates were flush to the wall, tiny spark beating frantically. The servo still came closer and made furtive grabs for him.

“I know you’re there, little monster, I saw you! Come out now, Blitz won’t hurt you! Much.”

It wasn’t any sort of calming for the white sparkling, but the arm was long and it came closer and closer. It would reach him in a klik…

Drift’s denta bit down hard on the nearest digit since it was all he could do and for a nanoklik he felt the taste of energon again – but then he folded into his alt-mode and the tiny speedster zipped out from the shadow, run over the cursin, g mech’s pede that threw him to the air for a few, terrifying kliks. But then he landed with a shock and zipped away, towards the end of the narrow street. He had no idea where he was going and why – but he was determined to find those nicer mechs. Somehow.


	2. Seek

Drift drove over the large pede, screamed in his tiny voice as he got airborne, instinctly hating and fearing the feel of the disappearing ground from under his tires and ommmph-ed as he hit the ground hard. Momentarily dizzy he swerved wildly, tires squealing along with his vocalizer but he more or less got away from the now cursing mech and the dumpsters. He would have liked to slow down and check the place where he was heading, but he was still terrified half out of his processor and the working circuits in his helm only urged him to go, drive, escape, get away… and he obeyed them. 

It was barely a few dozen mechanometers away that he slowed down, but for the tiny car it seemed hics of a desperate, wild drive on the debris-strewn, dark pavement. The narrow, dank street opened onto a slightly bigger one with far more mechs going about their business both in vehicle form and trudging along on the walkway, under the faint illumination of the streetlamps. Drift’s last effort took him past the street corner and among more large mechs he’d ever seen. The urge to get away was still strong in his processor and he swerved wildly among large pedes, narrowly avoiding some. In his nearly blind panic, Drift barely saw the hurdles in time as they appeared on his path – but he didn’t slow down. Another tiny car overtook him, the little would-be racer squeaking binary terror as he zipped down the street.

A large, crude and black pede stomped down in front of him and Drift screamed at the huge wall of metal directly on his path. Collision seemed imminent. Drift’s tiny tires screeched angrily as he tried to turn in time but his barely developing reflexes couldn’t keep him upright anymore. He lost traction, flipped to the side, then rolled over, all the time screaming wordlessly in his tiny, still high voice. Terror consumed him as he slid uncontrollably towards the pede, the scant nanokliks feeling like joors before the inevitable collision. Instinct made him transform back into root form, instinct made him draw in all limbs and ball up into an even tinier shape than his car form, and Drift obeyed it. Rolling, sliding and bouncing towards his doom he shut off the outside sensors too. 

But the collision didn’t come and the little ball of sparkling slowly rolled to a stop, gently knocking into something instead of slamming into it. Drift was frozen with terror still, his spark beating fast and his processor barely able to loosen the tight ball he’d curled into and cautiously online his sensors. The pede he was about to slam into has disappeared, its owner walked on completely unaware of the drama by his feet. Drift squeaked a sigh of relief and uncurled from his defensive ball, shaking out tiny, still trembling limbs and backed up to the wall for support. There were some pedes moving around still, but they were not so close and he was not driving dangerously fast, so the world appeared a little safer to him. It also helped that he felt the solid wall behind him, a wall that wasn’t about to move and step on him. Or so he hoped. 

After a few breems with his vents slowly normalizing and his spark not wanting to jump out of its chamber, Drift’s still developing processor suddenly threw up a warning about energon levels and the problem of getting it. A whole new problem thread blossomed in respect with concepts like future and plans, but most of it was just questions without answers. The newborn sparkling simply didn’t have enough information in his memory banks to make plans for the future, he was supposed to have a mentor or at least an employer who’d upload the necessary info. The urge to find either grew again, after the terror of the _bad mech_ diminished. Drift wasn’t sure how he judged bad mechs from suitable mentors, but he trusted his instincts so far. The mech at the dumpster was _bad_ , he just knew it. The mechs on the street… they mostly seemed to be good, but none was interested in a sparkling.

Finding a mentor would be hard now, he guessed, harder than at the place of the bright light, where mechs went for sparklings. An employer… the sparkling knew it wouldn’t be as good as a mentor, but he would still get uploads of necessary code and energon for the next upgrade growth. Find a factory then, he decided, not quite sure what a factory was, just going by the information he had and started to walk, keeping close to the wall. He had little knowledge about the world beyond basics and similarly little about what a factory would look like or where to find one… but maybe some of the big mechs around were workers and went to one. He started to watch the adult mechs who went by.

There were many kinds of mech in many sizes, shapes and colours. The sparkling had words for only a few, but instinctly knew that the fancy ones with bright colours were not workers, not his caste and he shouldn’t get close to them. They were rare on the street and when they went by the crowd split apart ahead and formed a bubble of space around them that wasn’t disturbed. It didn’t stop the sparkling to stare at the brilliant reds, yellows and purples that glittered and shone even under the faint streetlamps on elegant limbs and proud helms. 

For the first time the sparkling lifted an arm and stared at his own thin armour. The white appeared to be nice, but it wasn’t perfect, didn’t shine like theirs and was already dirty from the dumpster and his frantic run. The armor was crude compared to those mechs and his frame average, boxy, less nice. Drift glanced at a shiny mech nearby again and envied his better armor and the nicer paint. Chewing on his lips he watched with big optics as the shiny, red-gold mech went on to disappear behind a door and sighed a little. Even the other mechs walking or driving on the street looked better than himself and it filled his spark with dismay. It wasn’t a place for mechs like him.

The mechs on the walkway went in and out of shops too and from one of them the smell of energon came out as the door opened. The sparkling slipped closer to the door, drawn by the irresistible smell, staring inside through the plastiglass, at the mechs refueling and buying energon sweets. His tank pinged its emptiness, little digits tightened on the lower edge of the glass frame. Should he slip in when somemech opened the door? Or wait until someone came out and ask him for a little? Maybe a kind bot would give him a morsel?

“Go away runt! It’s our territory!”

The sparkling whirled around at the shouted words. Three younglings stood around him, each about twice as big as himself and they all looked angry. Their stances threatening, their optics hard, Drift knew he was not welcome around them. Clicking quietly – words still didn’t come easy to his processor – he lifted his servos palms out and started to edge away from the door. They followed him, all aggressive stances and frowning visages – until a big mech came to the door and even the younglings shushed a bit while he passed them by, uncaring of the little drama by his pedes, ignoring the dirty younglings like they were so much rubbish on the street. Drift used his presence to get away from the little gang.

“I dun wanna see you here again!”

The largest of the younglings shouted after him as he broke into a run and Drift turned back a little, tiny servos showing him a gesture he only understood much later, one that nearly got the younglings peel after him… if not for another big mech stepping out of the energon-shop’s door and scattering them with a well-placed kick. Drift turned at the corner full tilt and kept on running until he could hear nomech behind him. Knowledge of the world was collecting in his processor, simple and crude, but gained from what he saw.

Shops on the street meant rich place. Rich place meant high caste mechs, who wouldn’t want him, wouldn’t give him anything. Rich place meant youngling gangs who would scare him away. He would have to find the poorer places with factories, to work in or… steal energon from. The sparkling walked and drove alternately until the shops on the streets became smaller, dirtier, more rundown, the mechs around were not higher castes any more, instead they trudged slowly about their business on crude pedes and in cheaper armor. Things got bigger too, on a scale that dwarfed the tiny sparkling, the buildings and the bots as well. But the doors around there were still closed to him, the mechs walking on the street ignoring the tiny sparkling who, by this time got really hungry and tired. 

“Slag… they turn ‘em out really tiny these orns.”

“Ehhh… why do you care, Gasket? Just a runt.”

Drift somehow felt that the adults talked about him. He clicked nervously as he turned and saw the big mechs behind him, looking down at him. One was grey with some faded, chipped yellow, the other a nearly solid blue-black, but both looming over him. Drift froze.

“Don’t tell me you wanna waste energon on him!”

“Crank… he’s just a sparkling yet.”

“So?”

“So he won’t survive on his own.”

The black mech shrugged and continued on his way. Drift plastered himself to the wall as he passed and risked a glance at the other. 

“If you wanna waste energon on it, do it from your own allotment!” 

“I wouldna ask you for that, Crank. But I don’t have the codes a sparkling need. You... you’ve mentored a sparkling once, right?”

“A fat lot it did… cost me a fortune in energon an’ got arrested fer drugs before it could bring profit in…”

“Yeah, yeah, you told that a million times. But you have the downloads.’

“You really wanna adopt this runt? Yer crazy, Gasket, I told ya many times. It’s just a surplus. Nothing special. Just one more mouth fer the streets.”

“Not adopting… I can’t. Just… giving it a chance. A youngling can survive.”

The blue mech looked back to the black one and snorted. Then he threw a little data slug to his companion and stalked off, talking backwards over his shoulder tire.

“There you are. Ye give it the downloads, I don’t wanna to do anything with it!”

Drift listened to the conversation half entranced. He didn’t understand much, but he got that they were talking about him. He inched towards the kinder-looking grey mech, huge, wide optics silently entreating him unconsciously to take him in, to help him in a way that was instinctive to any species’ young. His little spark jumped when the large mech leaned down towards him and blue optics examined him, followed by a little sigh.

“Comehere, lil’ one.”

Drift clicked quietly and went. The mech felt… okay. Not a bad one. 

“I can’t take ya in, ya know? I dun have a place anyhow.”

Drift was confused. It sounded like the big mech didn’t want him after all. But he looked nice… he still twitched when the large servo gently closed around him and he was lifted up, far over the distant ground. He looked down and shivered again – being so far up was frightening and his tiny digits clamped on to the one holding him – but his attention was on the mech soon, who plugged a cable into his port – which Drift didn’t like and squealed loudly to signal his displease.

“It’s all right, lil’ one. I know you don’t like it… but you will, in a klik.”

New concepts blossomed in Drift’s processor as the download commenced. Where they were, where other things, mechs were, how Cybertron worked… myriad of things that swirled around in his processor, making him nauseous. Drift strained, wanting to get away from the cable, and the mech who looked nice but tormented him with this, but he was held tight. Not denting tight, but still, the sparkling couldn’t escape his firm grip. New protocols streamed into him next, governing his own frame, codes that defined a youngling frame, a bigger frame that he currently had. It felt acutely painful now to have his coding and his frame in conflict and Drift cried out.

“Easy, lil’ one… It’s a lot to take in, I know. Ya’ll get a little energon soon, that should finish the upgrade.”

A cube was held to his mouth and Drift smelled energon again, reached out to grab the edge. It was quite big for him and for a klik he wondered how to drink from it. Then the cube was turned and a corner presented to the tiny mouth. Both servos grabbing the edge, Drift drank greedily from it, eager to get as much as he could before the mech took it away. His tiny little tank was full to bursting when he finished and he did so only because he couldn’t swallow another drop. 

“There you are.”

The mech put him down to the ground and Drift immediately dropped to his aft by the wall. He felt… bursting-stretching-squeezing-growing at the same time and hissed static at his discomfort that soon changed into pain. Dizziness made the world swim and twirl around him and only hardcoded instinct saved him from purging the precious energon from his tank. The energon was siphoned into tiny systems immediately, where upgrade protocols turned them into growing struts, cables, hydraulics, upgrading armour and sensors. When the world resolved around him again he saw the world from a new viewpoint, one somewhat higher than before – and he had words, actual words and concepts to describe what he saw, interpret it and understand. He still ached from the upgrade, legs kicking out by reflex and newly enlarged servos making fists… but as the upgrade settled in he felt more and more comfortable in his new, bigger frame. 

The one thing he couldn’t see around any more was the mech who gave him all this, who helped him to upgrade to a youngling, giving him a chance to survive. He was gone and Drift was alone again.

Abandonment was a familiar feeling by now. Why did the nice mech left him alone? Was he… was he not good enough? Nomech wanted him ever, not even the one who was willing to help him?

Instead of sparkling clicks a hiss came from his vocalizer, resolving to words.

“Why…?”


End file.
